‘Not deliberately,’ I said, already wishing I hadn’t brought up the milkshake story. But it was always hard to stop myself telling Rosie everything. It was just second nature.
‘I wish I’d been there.’
‘Me too – you could have chased after him for me.’
Rosie and I had spent the day together, another before-school-starts tradition, and had actually bought a milkshake each before going our separate ways. She would definitely have chased after him, had she been there. When we were four, not long after we’d first met at a ballet class we both hated, an older boy had snatched my bow (I was the kind of kid who wore bows in her hair) and Rosie had sprinted after him, taken back the bow and stamped on his foot. Our friendship had followed a similar pattern ever since.
‘Why didn’t you chase him?’
‘I was surprised!’
‘You’d think after all this time in separate schools you’d have learned to chase your own bullies,’ Rosie said, her voice light and teasing.
‘Maybe Year 11 will be the year.’
‘Maybe. Do they even have bullies in private school?’
‘Yes.’ She knew very well that they did. She was the one I’d cried to for several straight months in Year 8 when I’d been the target. My school, Esther Herring’s High School for Girls, had more than its fair share of bullies.
‘Oh yeah. Sorry. I mean boy bullies. Obviously you don’t get those at Esther’s. Those are the ones I chase for you.’
I let her tease me about teenage boy thieves for a few minutes more until we hung up. I headed back upstairs in the direction of my bedroom, walking past my mother, who was ironing in front of the TV.
‘I’ve got your uniform here,’ she called after me. ‘Do you want to come and get it?’
I trudged reluctantly back towards her. My uniform was hanging on the cupboard door, the pleats on the skirt perfect, the blazer practically shining. I’d avoided looking at my uniform all summer. It was even greener than I remembered.
‘All freshly ironed,’ Mum said, looking pleased and proud. No one was happier that I was at Esther’s than her. When she found out I’d got in, she cried. Actually we both cried, but mine were not happy tears.
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the hangers.
‘Are you excited about tomorrow?’ She was smiling, and I wondered if she was being oblivious on purpose.
‘Not really,’ I said, but I injected a note of humour into my voice, to avoid a long ‘don’t disparage your opportunities’ speech.
‘It’s a big year,’ Mum said. The iron made a loud, squelching hissing noise, and she lifted it up. I suddenly realized she was ironing my father’s pants.
‘Mmmm,’ I said, edging towards the door.
‘It’ll be a great one,’ Mum continued happily, not even looking at me. ‘I can already tell. Maybe they’ll make you a prefect.’
This was unlikely. Being well behaved and getting good grades was not enough to set you apart at Esther’s. The two prefects likely to be selected from my form were Tanisha, who’d started a feminist society in Year 9 and wanted to be prime minister, and Violet, who headed up the debating team and had campaigned successfully to get the school to go Fairtrade. Esther’s was made for people like Tanisha and Violet. They didn’t just achieve, which was expected to be a given for everyone, they thrived.
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Don’t be disappointed if I’m not though, OK?’
‘I’ll be disappointed at them, not you,’ Mum replied, like this was any better.
Great, I thought. Another thing to worry about.
‘I really hope you’ll be focusing on your goals this year,’ Mum said, looking up at me just as I tried to make my escape from the room. She was always big on goals.
I thought of the milestone list I’d mentally penned earlier on the bus. Boyfriend. Virginity. Significant Life Events.
‘I am,’ I said. ‘Completely focused. Goodnight.’
Here’s my theory on Significant Life Events: everyone has them, but some have more than others, and how many you have affects how interesting you are, how many stories you have to tell, that kind of thing. I was still waiting for my first one.
Not that I’m complaining, but my life up to the age of sixteen had been steady and unblemished. My parents were still married, my best friend had been constant for over ten years, I’d never been seriously ill and no one close to me had died. I’d also never won any major competition, been spotted for a talent (not that I had a talent) or really achieved anything beyond schoolwork.
This wasn’t to say I hadn’t been on the fringe of these kinds of events for other people. Rosie herself had had two, both bad. At two and a half her father walked out on her and her mother, never to be seen again. When she was eleven, her new baby sister, Tansy, was a cot-death victim. My older sister, Tarin, had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of eighteen, when I was ten, and the entire period of her diagnosis had been marked by dark clouds and tears and Serious Discussions. I’d experienced these latter two events from the middle of the storm, and had seen how they’d shaped the lives of two of my favourite people in the world.
Rosie and Tarin both thought my significant-life-event theory was ridiculous.
‘Don’t wish tragedy on yourself,’ Tarin said. ‘Or mental illness.’ She didn’t get it when I tried to explain that significant life events could be happy things as well. ‘Like what?’
‘Like getting married?’ When her eyes went wide I added quickly, ‘I mean in general, obviously, not for me any time soon.’
‘God, Caddy, I hope you dream bigger than marriage as your life’s significant event.’
Rosie was dismissive. ‘They’re just horrible things that happened, Cads. They don’t make me more interesting than you.’
But the thing was, they did. The only interesting story I had to tell about my own life was that of my birth, which aside from my starring role as The Baby really had nothing to do with me. My parents, holidaying in Hampshire several weeks before my estimated arrival day, were stuck in a traffic jam in a little village called Cadnam when Mum went into labour. She ended up having me on the side of the road, with the help of a nurse who happened to be in another car.
This made a great story to pull out of the hat if I ever needed to, and I’d told it so many times (‘Caddy’s an interesting/weird/funny name. What’s it short for?’) I knew what kind of facial expressions to expect from the listener and the jokes they’d likely make (‘Good thing they weren’t driving through Croydon/Horsham/Slough! Ha!’). But that still didn’t make it mine. I couldn’t remember it, and it had no effect on my life. It was a significant event for my parents, not for me.
If anyone asked me for a story from my life in the present tense, I always went blank.
Of course I wasn’t trying to invite tragedy into my life. I knew the takeaway from pain is sadness, not anecdotes. But everything about me and my life felt ordinary, hopelessly average, even clichéd. All I wanted was something of some significance to happen.
And then, so slowly at first I almost didn’t notice it happening, it did.
Tuesday
Rosie, 09.07: New girl alert.
Caddy, 10.32: ??
10.34: We have a new girl!
10.39: Really? Details please.
10.44: Her names Suzanne. Seems very cool. More later, maths now.
13.19 : She just moved here from Reading. Takes same options as me! V funny.
13.20 : I mean shes v funny, not the options thing.
13.28: Cool. How’s everything else?
13.33: Same as. Call me tonight for chattage x
13.35: Will do x
Wednesday
08.33: I am on the bus and I just realized I forgot to brush my teeth.
08.37: Lovely!
10.38: Guess who isn’t a prefect?
10.40: Is it you?
10.42: Yes.
10.43: WOOOHOOOOOO! *streamers*
10.44: Your support mean
s the world to me.
13.01: You will always be PREFECT to me!
13.05: Um, thanks?
13.06: Geddit?
13.09: Yes!
13.11: HAHAHAHAHA. Suzanne says I shouldn’t laugh because maybe you wanted to be prefect.
13.29: You told her?
13.33: Yeah! I told her you def didnt want to be prefect and I’m laughing in a good way.
13.35: Sz says all of the best people she knows aren’t prefects.
13.40: Cads?
13.46: I def didn’t want to be prefect. Mum wanted me to be though.
13.48: :(
13.49: We’ll be not prefects together xx
Thursday
13.19: Nikki has clocked that Suzanne is cool. She tried to get her to sit with her at lunch.
13.25: Successfully?
13.27: No. Suzanne said she was good with me. Nikki said, you must have noticed she’s a loser by now. Sz was like, wtf? and Nikki goes ‘SERIOUSLY. I’m SAVING YOU.’
13.28: Bitch!!! Are you OK?
13.29. No. I’m crying in the toilets.
13.30: Want me to call you?
13.31: No.
13.31: Yes please.
Friday
09.01: What did you have for breakfast this morning?
09.02: Um, cereal?
09.03: Mum made me pancakes. I WIN!
13.12: Idea. How about I bring Suzanne with me when I come to yours after school? Then you can meet her!
13.42: Sure, OK.
13.43: Yay! You’ll love her, she’s amazing. We’ll come straight over, probs be at yours at about 4.
13.58: See you then x
15.33: WEEKEND!!!
I was brave
She was reckless
We were trouble
Best friends Caddy and Rosie are inseparable. Their differences have brought them closer, but as she turns sixteen Caddy begins to wish she could be a bit more like Rosie: confident, funny and interesting. Then Suzanne comes into their lives – beautiful, damaged, exciting and mysterious – and things get a whole lot more complicated. As Suzanne’s past is revealed and her present begins to unravel, Caddy begins to see how much fun a little trouble can be. But the course of both friendship and recovery is rougher than either girl realizes, and Caddy is about to learn that downward spirals have a momentum of their own.
Find out more at www.mykindabook.com/books/beautiful-broken-things
Endnote
1. €1.50 in Ireland
Rainbow Rowell lives in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband and two sons.
She’s also the author of Attachments, Eleanor & Park, Fangirl, Landline and Carry On.
Visit her website at www.rainbowrowell.com.
Also by Rainbow Rowell
Attachments
Eleanor & Park
Fangirl
Landline
Carry On
First published 2016 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2016 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-2085-6
Copyright © Rainbow Rowell 2016
The right of Rainbow Rowell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Extract from Beautiful Broken Things copyright © Sara Barnard 2016
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Rainbow Rowell, Kindred Spirits
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